


A Delicate Question

by Wertiyurae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Buckets (Homestuck), Earth C (Homestuck), Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wertiyurae/pseuds/Wertiyurae
Summary: Karkat has a delicate question to ask Dave.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	A Delicate Question

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swordguy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordguy/gifts).



> The rating may be higher than it needs to be, but better safe than sorry. Written to fill a very particular niche (pun!). Be mindful of the tags.

It’s been a lazy sort of afternoon, like many Karkat and Dave have spent on their new world, spent watching daytime television on their long suffering lounge plank. Neither of them have been paying much attention to what’s on the screen because they’d been deep in conversation about the relative attractiveness of shared human and troll celebrities (a conversation they’ve had many times, more often since Dave actually admited he finds any of them attractive), and now that the words have stopped flowing, Karkat finds the melodrama in progress not a nearly distracting enough excuse to keep him from asking Dave something he’s been wanting to ask for some time now. 

Karkat still doesn’t feel prepared to actually say the words out loud to Dave, but he knows he’s as prepared as he’s ever going to be. “I was thinking—” he sees Dave open his stupid mouth to say something equally stupid and punches him premptively in the shoulder. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Dave complains. 

“You know what it’s for.” Karkat rolls his eyes as Dave rubs his shoulder. It’s not even going to bruise, the grub. “Anyway, I was thinking about,” even as an adult, he can feel a flush coming on, “buckets.” 

Dave has an eyebrow raised over his glasses. “Like the human kind or the troll kind: choose carefully, because whichever one you choose is going to determine how invested in this conversation I continue to be.” 

Karkat resists the urge to punch Dave again but only just. “The troll kind.” 

“You have my attention,” Dave announces. “Do I finally get to see one of these mysterious buckets in action when you do the pull out thing like a Catholic on prom night before going off to hide in the bathroom like a pregnant girl on prom night?”

“What the fuck does your bizarre school feeding dance ritual have to do with anything?” Karkat holds up his hand. “Actually, hold that thought and throw it away, because I don’t want to know. Whatever you’re going to say is going to be moronic and take an hour to sift through, and I have something important to ask you.”

Dave looks a little disappointed, but he shrugs, wincing a little as the movement jostles his shoulder. “Okay. Shoot.”

“I did some research on the human internet,” Karkat says, knowing he’s putting off his actual question, but also wanting to assure Dave that he knows what he’s talking about, “and your body should be able to hold a bucket safely.” 

“What?” Dave tilts his head. “Why would you have to research that? Why the fuck wouldn’t I be able to hold one? Are troll buckets made of radioactive shit or something? ”

“No, don’t be stupid.” 

Dave crosses his arms. “Then what are you talking about, because I’m hella confused, my guy. You need to break it down in pieces, make it simple, ‘cause you know that I’m a simple kind of man.” 

It’s his own fault for being vague, Karkat knows this, but it’s frustrating anyway. “Okay, fine! You want to know what I’m talking about? I’m going to ask you to be,” despite himself, he trips on the words—this is so deviant!—, “my bucket.” 

“Your what? You gotta speak up. All those years of crafting sweet jams has fucked my ear drums five ways to Sunday, whatever the fuck that means.”

Karkat pinches the bridge of his nose. At least being annoyed feels better than being embarrassed. “My bucket,” he says as clearly as he can manage. The next question he’s going to get is obvious, he feels less certain about how good an idea it was to have this conversation at all the longer it continues, and he wants to get a yes or no from Dave before he loses the nerve to ask. “I want to deposit my genmat inside of you instead of doing the whole… prom night thing you were flapping your squawker about earlier.”

Dave’s mouth falls open. “Fuck. Really?”

It’s too late to pretend he didn’t say it now. “Yes, really, you cretin.” He bites his lip. “What do you say, Dave? Will you… be my bucket?”

A sudden, wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask.” Dave gives his ass a hard pat. “This baby can hold so much troll jizz. I got the trunk to contain *all* your spunk.”

“You’re disgusting,” Karkat says, unable to hide his relief. 

“Not as disgusting as I’m gonna be,” Dave rejoins, still grinning. “I can’t wait until you top me and top me off.” His grin softens, and he pecks Karkat on the cheek. “Anytime, anyplace.” 

Karkat swallows hard. “How about here and now?”

Dave flashes him a pair of upwardly turned thumbs. “Let’s do this thing, and by ‘let’s’, I mean you, and by ‘thing’, I mean me.” He leans back against the arm of the couch and holds his arms out wide. “Don’t leave me hanging, man.”

“Shut up,” Karkat laughs before accepting the human’s invitation. 


End file.
